


Backslash

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crack, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, off stage orgy, off stage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Liberator is full of assorted gems, sexy costumes and currency, while the medical unit is prepared to take care of just about any injury, except for radiation poisoning. And really, WHY are the guns so phallic? </p>
<p>Hmmm... maybe the Liberator actually wasn't a battleship. </p>
<p>Maybe Zen's current crew might enjoy a change in profession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Backslash

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

“Avon! Come here, I need you!”

“What now?” Avon grumbled, without pausing in his work. He was hot, dirty, cramped and irritable. He had no intention of leaving this engineering duct with the job half-done, not after the bruises he’d already acquired getting into it once. 

“I need you.”

Avon tightened a connection. “Yes, I know that,” he replied. “I also thought that you needed this circuit repaired. In fact, I distinctly recall something resembling an order for me to ‘drop everything and attend to it’. ” Lately Blake had been more annoying than usual. Of course Avon had retaliated. He grinned, thinking of Blake’s expression when he last fell to Avon’s sword in verbal battle. It was particularly gratifying to have done it in front of Jenna. And Cally. And Vila. Gan was there, too, but Avon doubted he’d understood the finer points of Avon’s argument. 

“This is more important.” Now Blake’s voice held an intriguing note- could it be desperation? 

Avon considered a moment, then sighed and put down his laser probe. He began backing out of the access shaft. Blake grabbed his boots and tugged, dragging him out onto his belly on the cold deck, his black knit shirt rolled up under his arms by friction. 

Avon yanked his shirt down and rolled onto his back, glaring up at Blake. “I knew you were mad,” he commented, “but I hadn’t anticipated the full extent of your suicidal aspirations.”

Blake looked down at Avon and grinned. Avon felt a nervous roiling in his stomach. Damn it, the man ought to know when he was being threatened. 

“Avon,” Blake said softly, “I need you.”

Avon briefly closed his eyes and released a sigh of exasperation.“Oh, all right. What impossible job do you have for me now?”

Blake moved, reaching down to offer Avon a hand up. Avon accepted and was hoisted to his feet with disconcerting ease, Blake’s strong arms wrapped around him steadying his balance. “It shouldn’t be impossible for you,” Blake said, quietly. He was virtually glowing with honesty, determination, and eternal optimism.

“Wonderful. Now I’m to be flattered. Fine, I’ll do it, whatever it is. Just let me go,” Avon said, pushing at Blake’s arms, which Blake had apparently, in his fit of fanatical fervor, forgot were still immobilizing Avon.

“No.” Blake was still staring into Avon’s eyes. “I’ll never let you go.” Blake’s hands slid down Avon’s back, cupped Avon’s cheeks, and squeezed.

Avon yelped and jumped, breaking Blake’s hold. He ran for the exit, then paused and turned back. “Blake! What sort of imbecilic...” Avon’s eyes trailed down to the front of Blake’s trousers, and he suddenly realized the hard lump he’d felt while in Blake’s embrace wasn’t an oversized belt buckle. Avon began backing up, shaking.

“Go on, Avon. I love the sound of your voice.” Blake’s right hand lowered to his belt buckle. 

“You sick, sorry, son-of-a-bitch!” Avon’s normal vocabulary failed him.

“Oh, Avon,” Blake’s voice was throaty with lust, “more. Please. You don’t know what it does to me when you call me names. Please, more.” He took a step toward Avon, arms outstretched. “In my cabin.” He grinned. “I’ve lots of lovely toys we could use.”

Avon went white, backed up two more steps, yelled, “No!” turned and ran, boots clattering and leather squeaking frantically as he fled.

“Avon!” Blake bellowed. “Avon,” he cried, softly, and fell to his knees, pounding the deck in an excess of emotion. “Oh, Avon,” he whispered, tears running down his face from the laughter he fought to suppress. That ought to keep the snide little bastard in check, for a few days at least. Oh, the look of sheer terror on Avon’s face. It was a pity he couldn’t share the joke with anyone. Not even Jenna, even though it was thoughts of her that had produced the evidence to finish Avon off. 

“Never mind, Blake.”

Blake turned, startled, to see Vila standing behind him, all sympathy. 

Vila patted Blake on the back. “Really, you shouldn’t go and fall in love with Avon.”

“I’m not...” Blake paused. Vila was the closest thing Avon had to a friend. It really wouldn’t do to tell him the truth. He’d run to Avon with it in a flash. “I’m all right,” Blake said. He gave Vila a brave smile.

Vila knelt and gave Blake a reassuring hug. “You just need someone to take your mind off him.” Vila’s hands went to Blake’s head, gently combing through his curls. “Someone with skilled hands.” Vila’s tongue-tip protruded. “Someone who’d let you be on top.” Vila beamed and moved closer, rubbing against Blake.

Blake leapt to his feet, flushed. “S-sorry, Vila,” he stuttered, “I couldn’t. It would be bad for crew dynamics.”

Vila looked up at Blake, adoringly, still kneeling at Blake’s feet. “Aw, you don’t need to be afraid of Uncle Vila.” He grinned wickedly. “Not all the stories about Deltas are true. I don’t bite- much.” He reached for Blake’s groin. “Avon doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Blake backed up a step. Vila got up and went into a crouch, eyes glittering. “Lovely basket, Blake,” he commented.

That did it. Blake turned and ran, Vila’s howls of despair following him, “No! Blake! Please! I’d still respect you in the morning!”

Vila stared after Blake. There was a loud clatter, followed by a thump. Apparently in his haste Blake had forgotten the dogleg turn around the corridor. Poor Blake. And poor Avon. Vila sat down on the deck to consider the situation. Just thinking about it got to him. Vila buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he relieved his feelings. He’d been watching the whole affair from one of his favorite ‘non-working’ perches and jumped at the chance to finally get the object of his desires. Both Avon and Blake would probably be in hiding for at least a day. That ought to be long enough for him to worm his way into Jenna’s good graces. She was getting tired of trying to get through Blake’s defences. And Cally - with Avon out of the running- most likely still running- she’d have a chance to admire Vila’s work for a change. Oh, this was going to be great!

“Vila.”

Vila blinked away his tears of laughter, and looked up into the face of his good friend Gan. “Oh, hullo, Gan.”

“Blake wasn’t very kind to you,” Gan said, smiling in his gentle, reassuring way.

“No, well, he usually isn’t, come to think of it, is he?” Vila got up, or at least he started to, but Gan kept one large hand on each of Vila’s shoulders.

“No. And neither is Avon.”

“That’s true enough,” Vila agreed. “Well, I’ve got to go now,” Vila said, squirming uselessly in Gan’s grasp. “People to do, things to see.. um, well, anyway, good-bye Gan.”

Gan shook his head. “You’re being brave.”

Vila gaped at Gan.

Gan enveloped Vila in a hug, smothering him against Gan’s huge chest. “I’ve always been your friend, Vila. Haven’t you always been mine?”

Vila managed a muffled agreement.

“Then why don’t we..um.. cement our relationship?” Gan’s groping hand left no doubt as to his meaning.

Panicked, Vila began flailing. Instinctively Gan tightened his grasp, and Vila went limp. Gan laid Vila down on the deck, and examined him quickly. “You’ll be all right. Just fainted from all the excitement, I expect.” Gan picked Vila up in his arms. “Maybe you’re shy?” Gan thought about it and nodded. “And desperate, too, to make a pass at Blake.” Gan sighed. “I’d never have the nerve.” Gan began walking toward his cabin. “When you wake up, and we’re already in the middle of things, you won’t be shy, then.”

He looked down at Vila’s innocently unconscious face, and in consequence wasn’t looking where he was going, and stumbled over an obstruction, falling to his knees and dropping Vila.

Gan looked around. Blake and Avon were tangled in each other’s arms, up against the dogleg corner. “Now, isn’t that sweet? The excitement must have been too much for them, too.” Gan cocked his head and considered them. Avon looked very pretty as long as his mouth was shut, and Blake’s noble nature was very attractive from this angle, too. “Well, as my old mother used to say, ‘waste not, want not’.” It was a bit awkward, but Gan deposited Avon over his left shoulder, Blake over his right shoulder, and managed to pick Vila up in his arms again. “Whew. It’s a good thing my cabin isn’t very far.” Thinking it over, in his usual slow, stolid fashion, Gan grinned. “And it’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of lubricant.” Beaming, Gan continued on his way, limiter tingling in anticipation. It had been such a long time. Hmmm, had he ever told them about the good side-effects of the limiter? Oh, well, they’d all find out- in the end.


	2. Backslash Takes a Dogleg Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna has a talk with Zen, and Cally 'says hello'.

Jenna sighed and shifted again. Her feet were killing her. Blake was supposed to relieve her fifteen minutes ago. For the umpteenth time, she wondered why the Liberator's designers had these awkward 'chairs' that you couldn't sit in. It was especially ridiculous during combat manuevers.

Perhaps Liberator _wasn't_ a battle cruiser? But what else would you use the Neutron Blasters for? And why would it need powerful force walls? Oh! She was sure she was developing bunions. She vowed never again to wear high-heeled boots with skin-tight velvet pants, no matter how much she wanted to attract Blake. She could barely move for fear of splitting a seam.

To distract herself from her aching feet she pondered the mystery of Liberator. Maybe it was an asteroid mining vessel and the Neutron Blasters were intended to break chunks free and the force wall to protect against stray rubble? She admired her logic for a moment, then shook her head. Why would a mining ship have rooms full of exotic clothing and expensive jewelry? Not to mention the scent collection. And then there was the medical unit. It hadn't anything for radiation sickness, but there was an antibiotic dispenser stocked with an impressive range of drugs capable of curing the most resistant diseases.

"Zen," she asked finally,"what _is_ the Liberator?"

Zen's lights flashed, and the colors of Zen's fascia shifted, topaz becoming ruby. "Interference in crew's personal matters is not allowed," Zen replied after a pause that seemed overly lengthy.

"What's personal about that? I was asking what was Liberator's original purpose."

Zen's lights became redder. The computer made a peculiar noise that Jenna could only classify as an embarrassed throat-clearing- if Zen had a throat. "The purpose of the ship _is_ personal."

Jenna sighed. "Look, I know you've been picking up uncooperative tips from Orac, but I always thought we had a special relationship, Zen. Can't you tell _me_? I am your pilot. I do need to know anything that might affect your performance."

Zen's embarrassed noises came again. Then the computer made a sighing sound and said, "Well, as Gan is currently taking full advantage of the facilities, it won't be a secret much longer."

Jenna was startled. Zen sounded almost human now. "Go on," she encouraged. "What's Gan doing?"

"Interference in crew's _personal_ matters is not allowed." 

"Personal?" The way Zen emphasized the word, there was only one meaning she could draw. This was getting good. Gan and Cally. She would never have imagined those two together. She grinned. No competition for Blake, then. Suddenly her feet were the least important part of her anatomy. With Cally accounted for...

"Jenna, Blake asked me to relieve you."

Jenna whirled, lost her balance on her teetery high heels, and fell into Cally's arms. Cally held her for a long moment, and something inside Jenna noted that Cally was a lot stronger than her thin frame would lead one to suspect. And she was a lot warmer. And she smelled like lilacs, and had the most beautiful eyes, and a sweet mouth. Hastily Jenna pulled herself up, muttering 'thanks', and feeling a warm flush invading her cheeks.

Cally's direct gaze did not waver, and despite the serious tone of her 'you're quite welcome, Jenna,' her gentle smile was doing things to the part of Jenna which had noticed Cally's warmth.

Jenna pulled herself together mentally, and frowned. "What's wrong with Blake? Is he ill?"

Cally chuckled. "I don't think so. He called me from Gan's room."

"Gan's room? What would Blake be doing in..." Jenna whirled again, this time in Zen's direction, and Cally caught her from behind, holding her close against her warm, wiry body, but Jenna kept her concentration. "Zen! What _is_ Blake doing in Gan's room!"

"Interference in crew's personal matters is not allowed," Zen replied.

Jenna made a fist. "If you say that once more, I'll have Avon take a laser probe to your circuits." She was still facing Zen, but keenly aware of Cally's supportive hands slowly stroking Jenna's nipples. Jenna didn't object because... well, maybe that was the alien way of saying 'hello' and she didn't want to be rude.

"Avon is currently occupied." Zen sounded smug. "In Gan's room."

After a moment's shocked silence while Jenna attempted to visualise how the _hell_ could Blake, Gan and Avon all fit into one of those little silver bunks, she muttered,"Well, Vila then with one of his lock-picks," while leaning back so that Cally could more easily reach her neck to continue planting kisses.

"Vila is currently occupied." Smug didn't half cover it. "In Gan's room."

"Now _that_ I've got to see!" Jenna started to turn for the exit, but found herself inexplicably tangled in Cally's arms. The two of them fell back toward the flight deck couches which had folded themselves flat and meshed together to make a large, softly padded surface that cupped about the women's bodies, forcing them to roll together. 

The flight deck lighting dimmed, and violins began playing, along with a soft undercurrent of tom-toms beating at a rapid heart-beat pace. Zen's 'intruder defense' system formed in the middle of the room, floating above the couch. 

Jenna started, frightened for a moment before she realized that the floating image was in response to her request. She was pleased to see that the little silver bunks also knew how to expand themselves. And so did Gan. She grinned. Blake was enjoying himself, and Vila seemed pleased to be working hard for once. She wasn't as sure about Avon, but as his mouth was full at the moment, he wasn't making any complaints. And neither was she. She began returning Cally's kisses, thinking 'well, I always did like curly hair'.

Zen sighed quietly to himself. It was so nice to be doing what he was designed for. He had begun to despair of this crew. Bad enough he'd lost his last crew of 'pleasure units' to the XXX video-consortium, but he'd thought he was losing his touch as the galaxy's finest space-going bordello.

Now that he finally got them started, he could see they had potential. There was a very nice black leather outfit that would suit Avon perfectly, the Robin Hood get-up would be very nice on Blake, and Vila would look cute in a red fur uniform.

He made a mental note to shine all his studs and fluff all his boas before sending out the 'open house' invitations. Let's see-Neutron Blasters set to wide dispersal to activate the glow of space 'gas', Force Wall to gather it into 'neon' signs about Liberator's periphery... Oh, and he had better sign up again with Freedom City's erotica list. Fresh ideas were good for business.


	3. Open House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make love, not war.

Zen was nearly frantic. His whole career was depending on Liberator's Grand Opening. He had to regain his reputation as Prime Purveyor of Pulcritude to the Planets. His crew would have been frantic, too, but he had persuaded Cally to give them all a 'special vitamin solution' before he explained his rationale to them. The first 'guests' were expected any moment.

They were all gathered on the flight deck when Zen spotted the approaching craft. _Places, everyone!_

Vila was a trifle clumsy getting started and Zen made a note to shorten the trailing red fur cloak.

Avon was shivering as he ran, clad only in skin-tight black leather briefs flocked with red hearts and brightly polished silver nipple rings set with tiny rubies. Noting that the chill made Avon's nipples cutely erect, Zen had decided against the matching black feather boa.

Blake's grey goose feather bobbed in his Robin Hood cap, and the suction-cup- tipped feathers rattled in his quivering quiver as he bounded down the corridor toward the main lock.

Gan was already there, arms folded across his broad bare chest, green silk harem pants glittering in the light from the gigantic disco ball that floated high over head. He unfolded his arms and reached up the adjust his turban, then settled his face back into the impassive 'genie' look as Zen had coached him. 

Avon arrived, panting, just behind Blake. Following Blake gave Avon a good view of Lincoln-green tights a size too small. It was the best reason he'd ever found for following Blake.

Blake glanced around at his 'merry men', and nodded. He touched the wall communicator. "Jenna, Cally, we're set. Start the plan."

On the flight deck, Jenna and Cally stopped what they were doing long enough to throw a few switches. Jenna was admiring Cally's battle-scars, and Cally was admiring Jenna's pursuit ship tattoo. It was very clever, the way it appeared to fire plasma bolts when Jenna flexed her stomach muscles. Cally got closer to examine it in detail and was jolted into Jenna when the ship lurched. "What was that?" Cally asked, rubbing the top of her head. Jenna had the breath knocked out of her, and didn't say anything.

_Our guests have arrived._ Zen concentrated on keeping the force walls up while dimming all the external energy arrays. He didn't want to appear unapproachable, but he hoped they got tired of testing him soon. If they scratched his paint job, it was a long journey to the body shop. He kept transmitting frantic pleas for mercy (Vila had recorded those), and grudging admissions of mechanical failure (Avon's voice), and a faintly defiant demand for terms, with overtones of despair (from Blake). A final combined, electronically-faked, group scream, followed by dead silence, ended the program. Zen thought it had been artistic. He hoped it had been effective.

The other ship slowed and approached Zen's main airlock. Zen sighed in relief. It wouldn't be good for business if he'd been forced to destroy his first potential customers.

He checked the ship's identification and reassured himself that this was the one he'd requested Orac to lead to them. Orac was an annoying little bugger, but he had an extraordinary way with a tarriel cell. The way he could trickle an electron-stream... ah, no time for that now. Business first. Zen let his attention go back to Blake and the others. _hrrrump,_ Zen 'cleared his throat' startling Vila away from Blake, and Gan back from Avon. _Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Save it for the company._

The men hurriedly rearranged their costumes, although it was unlikely that Blake's goose feather would ever be the same again, and Avon's nipple rings had mysteriously acquired tiny streamers of green silk.

The main air-lock door slid open. "Blake! Now I've got you!" Travis shouted, leaping out in a splendidly balletic movement that should have split his trousers (and possibly did, as Servalan glanced at him for a second longer than usual before sauntering out to take center stage).

"Blake," she added in a calm, I- have -total- control, voice, which wavered as she took in the scene. Her eyes grew into Little Orphan Annie saucers of surprise, before narrowing back into her usual seductively scheming orbs. "What _are_ you up to?"

Blake grinned back at her and playfully aimed a suction-cup arrow in her direction. 

Travis automatically fired, scorching a perfectly good wall-size vid-screen of exceptional quality.

_That will be an additional ç500, Travis,_ Zen said.

Travis and Servalan were back to back now, looking for enemies. When the screen vanished they had nothing to aim at and were quite upset.

"Additional to what?" Servalan asked as her eyes darted from side to side, examining the cross-connecting corridors suspiciously.

_Additional to the 'recreational services'charge. Welcome aboard the Libordello. If you leave your mutoids in your parked vehicle, be aware that regulations require you to leave the ventilators on full and the blood plasma stores unlocked for their comfort. Please check all hand-weapons at the door. Temporary neutralization of personal laseron devices is a requirement of the management._

"The computer's insane," Travis snarled, but his snarl was lacking force. He was puzzled that no one had attacked. "Mutoids!" he shouted, but when he looked behind him, the airlock door had sealed, locking him away from his vampire crew. He turned and clawed frantically at the seal for a moment, then frowned and turned to Servalan. "Wait a moment. Did that computer say 'recreational services'?"

_Confirmed._ Zen had been pumping an atomised version of his 'special vitamin solution' into the corridor by the airlock door all along, and now that it was no longer being diluted by air from the pursuit ship, it was taking rapid effect.

Travis lunged at Servalan who fell backward, but recovered quickly with a knee to his groin. He moaned and fell but his artificial hand managed to grab something entirely natural and very soft. He squeezed and pulled Servalan down on top of him.

_Now._ Zen boomed, and the male continginent of the Liberator crew raced in and disarmed their opponents. Gan sat on Travis while Avon disconnected the firing circuits in his arm, and Blake sat on Servalan while Vila frisked her for hidden weapons.

_Vila,_ Zen scolded when the thief lingered in a place where Servalan hadn't hidden anything dangerous- well, not anything that came out of an armaments factory, anyway.

Gan got off Travis and said, "This way, sir," waving down the corridor. Blake had already thrown all the weapons that Servalan and Travis had carried into the nearest disposal.

Servalan looked the Liberator crew over very carefully. "Why don't you have any weapons?" she asked. "You surely don't expect to take _us_ barehanded."

Avon gave her a toothy grin. "My dear Supreme Commander, I expect to take you bare."

Servalan looked Avon over even more carefully. She ran her tongue over her ruby-red lips. "How much?"

Avon extended an arm, which Servalan accepted. "There is a rate-chart in the room. But I'm sure we can work something out. I have a feeling you're going to be a repeat customer."

Servalan gave Avon a matching toothy grin and began walking down the corridor, arm in arm with him.

"What about me?" Travis yelled in frustration. 

Blake tapped him on the shoulder. "You can play with me."

Travis examined Blake. "Well," he rubbed his chin, and blinked his lone eye, considering it. "Maybe. Do you have a Maid Marian costume?"

"In white, or in blue?"

Travis grinned and linked arms with Blake. As they vanished down the corridor, Travis glanced back at Vila and Gan. "Hey, aren't you coming?"

***

Forty-eight hours and ç124,855 later, the pursuit ship undocked from the Liberator. Zen watched as the erratic course straightened and the pursuit ship began heading home to Space Command.

Zen surveyed the damage to crew and ship. Orgies are never neat. _Bugger it. Clean-up tomorrow._ He was very tired. He sighed and put himself into sleep mode, leaving a red light on for Orac.

**Author's Note:**

> Just because it amused me how a dirty mind can interpret the most innocent things I'm including various definitions of backslash:
> 
> The backslash (\\) is a typographical mark (glyph) used mainly in computing and is the mirror image of the common slash. It is sometimes called a hack, whack, escape (from C/UNIX), reverse slash, slosh, backslant, backwhack, and in rare occasions, bash, reverse slant, and reversed virgule.
> 
> This is a slash: /. Because the top of it leans forward, it is sometimes called a “forward slash.”  
>  This is a backslash: \\. Notice the way it leans back, distinguishing it from the regular slash.
> 
> A backward virgule ( \ ).  
> a short oblique stroke (\\):


End file.
